The READIN Family Album
Me and Sylvia at the Memorial (April 2009)

READIN

Jeremy's journal

Hay peores cárceles que las palabras.

Nuria Monfort


(This is a page from my archives)
Front page
More recent posts
Older posts

Archives index
Subscribe to RSS

This page renders best in Firefox (or Safari, or Chrome)

Monday, November third, 2003

🦋 False hope vs. no hope

This post on Crooked Timber, and the response to it which I came up with in the comments, lead me to wonder which is preferable: false hope, or no hope? My gut reaction is to prefer false hope.

But if you try sometimes, you just might find, just might find, you get what you need... -- not sure how this ties in but it does come to mind, yes.

posted afternoon of November third, 2003: Respond

Sunday, November second, 2003

I took Sylvia and Natalie to the playground today, so as to give Ellen and Lorrain (Natailie's mother) both some time off. The first interaction at the park forebode some trouble; a little boy named (as it turned out) Mikhail was tagging along fairly close behind them when Natalie said, "You can't play with us." Sylvia picked up on that and started getting in Mikhail's face, yelling "You can't play with us!" over and over until he started crying, which he did just as the two girls ran off to the next thing. Well after a bit of chasing around I got them both in hand and walked them back over to apologize and say he could play with them -- I couldn't tell whether Natalie actually did apologize but Sylvia did, in a rather breezy way -- Mikhail cheered right up and the three of them had a pretty good time playing together for about half an hour.

Later on, on the way back home, they were reading stories to each other. Sylvia was reading from "Polar Bear, Polar Bear, what do you hear?" -- this is a book where the question is asked of lots of zoo animals and each of them responds with the next animal and its characteristic noise -- then they all turn out to be kids imitating zoo animals -- it is by Eric Carle, Mr. Very-Hungry-Caterpillar. When Sylvia got to the hippo, she read "Hippopotamus, hippopotamus, what do you hear? I hear a... T. Rex!" Natalie: "No!... That's not a T. Rex!... That's a zebra!" Back and forth for a minute as to whether it is or is not a T. Rex; at last Sylvia says, "I call it a T. Rex." -- for which she adopts a particular, very cute, dramatic tone of voice.

posted evening of November second, 2003: Respond
➳ More posts about Sylvia

Friday, October 31st, 2003

🦋 Happy Hallowe'en!

Must be the season of the witch!

posted morning of October 31st, 2003: Respond

Saturday, October 25th, 2003

🦋 Cute kiddies

And another family picture album entry:

Our Pizza Picnic with Natalie

posted evening of October 25th, 2003: Respond
➳ More posts about the Family Album

Thursday, October 23rd, 2003

🦋 Project pix

Developed pictures of the two projects I have finished recently:

The Windowseat

The Stone Path

posted evening of October 23rd, 2003: Respond
➳ More posts about Window seat

Thursday, October 16th, 2003

Patrick Farley's Electric Sheep, home of the IMO best comics on the web, celebrated its 5th birthday yesterday. Patrick marked the occasion by unveiling a new front page, the first step in his planned redesign of the site. Go check it out -- there is a poll where you can ask for the new comic you would most like to see. (Hint: vote for Apocamon 4!)

posted afternoon of October 16th, 2003: Respond
➳ More posts about Electric Sheep

🦋 The Light of Reason

I have linked several times over the past little while to Arthur Silber's blog and just wanted to mention that you should really be reading it. He is a fine writer and really good at finding interesting stuff in the chaos of the world. He is on my blogroll to the left under "Libertarians" of which he is one -- my blogroll is beseeching me for some reorganization but that is not going to happen just yet.

posted afternoon of October 16th, 2003: Respond

Wednesday, October 15th, 2003

🦋 Awkward, Abortive First Attempt

I want to write about the beauty which I hope one day to create. Beauty I believe is in one sense a quality infused into objects by an artisan by the application of his skill. (The obvious truth that there are many other valid meanings of beauty, many involving neither artisan nor object, should not detract from my examination of this particular one.)

An artisan -- the master of a craft -- this is what I hope to be. In particular I want to understand furniture-making fully enough to create pieces which possess the grandeur and solidity of 17th- and 18th-Century American furniture pieces; which can stand in a room and lend it firmness. To get to that point I will need to work enough with wood to get a real familiarity with the material; and to work enough with my tools that they become extensions of my body.

Update: Here, Mike Recchione says some of what I am trying to get at.

I don't care what kind of tools were used to make the things I have, or even whether they were made in a factory or somebody's basement. The thing that counts is how much of their divine spark the makers put into what they were doing.

posted evening of October 15th, 2003: Respond
➳ More posts about Æsthetics

🦋 Statement of purpose

I want to write about the type of beauty which I think is essential to -- look, here is the problem: I have this idea to which I am trying to give voice; but I can't get sentence 1 out of my mouth, out of my keyboard -- "I want to write about", this is good, this is what I am trying to say; "the type of beauty", well, that's vague, I'm talking about an æsthetic judgement, so I say "beauty", and I say "type" because there are other possible judgements -- I want to denigrate them but I can't start right off as claiming the point I want to prove, and anyway what point is there in making earnest argument over æsthetic judgement? But ok, let's keep "the type of beauty" -- "which I think is essential" -- "essential"? "Essential to"? To what is this beauty essential? I want to say this judgement, this beauty, is at the root of my essence, it is an important aspect of my psyche, and I want to universalize my experience and say that such beauty is or should be an integral part of a person. But to say as my first sentence that this beauty is essential to my sanity, that does not seem meaningful; and to say that it is essential to our continuance as a psychic community, that sounds pretentious and in the end meaningless too; so what do I say? What do I mean?

Look, I want down the road somewhere to be saying "the problem with modern consumerist society is..." and then finish that statement with a clause describing how my special form of beauty is not sufficiently appreciated hereabouts; at least that is where I see this essay going, the one that is that I sat down to write before I realized I could not write even one sentence of it. But is that really an idea I want to spend my time developing? This question is rhetorical, so I realize as I ask it; the answer to it is "no"; I am sitting down to write the essay with the wrong goal in mind. The proper goal, and one which would bear having me spend some time and effort in attaining it, is to describe the judgement I have in mind and to point to admirable examples of such beauty, without complaining about the times it is not sufficiently in evidence. In this way I may be able to get my point across.

posted evening of October 15th, 2003: Respond
➳ More posts about Writing Projects

I've been listening to a CD over and over again for the past few days; it is "Dark was the Night" by Blind Willie Johnson. Every time I listen to it I like it a little better -- and I did not dislike it to begin with! If anything could persuade me to believe, it would be good gospel music like this.

Last week I bought a portable CD player, which I had been meaning to do for a while now. My thinking is that I will listen to music on the train to and from work and that, with repetition, I will come to a deeper understanding of the songs. This is certainly happening with Johnson -- I had thought his songs were quite simple, with few lyrics and not much happening on guitar, and that his main attribute was his awesome voice; but in reality there is quite a bit of musical complexity under the surface, and the lyrics have some pretty insightful bits that you don't catch until the third or fourth repetition.

Jim came over last night and we played blues for a couple of hours. He is really into Leo Kottke and is showing me some neat stuff. We played a really long set of songs in D (I was using dropped-D tuning and he was using open-D), jamming from one into the next; I discovered that it is hugely confusing to jam from "C.C. Rider" into "Stagger Lee" (and probably vice versa) because the songs are quite similar in certain ways -- in mid-verse I will forget which one I am playing and slip into the other one.

posted morning of October 15th, 2003: Respond
➳ More posts about The Blues

Previous posts
Archives

Drop me a line! or, sign my Guestbook.
    •
Check out Ellen's writing at Patch.com.

Where to go from here...

Friends and Family
Programming
Texts
Music
Woodworking
Comix
Blogs
South Orange